


latest nostalgia, or happily ever after

by bellawritess



Series: spiderman AU [2]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Coming Out, First Kiss, Friendship, M/M, Oh wait, Scientist Calum Hood, Techie Michael Clifford, hell yeah, i have nothing to say this fic belongs to maggie, if that means anything to anyone, lab partners to lovers, malum side of a hero a liar!!, ned!michael, wtf is this lab class seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:42:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25645240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellawritess/pseuds/bellawritess
Summary: Calum’s not cute.Well, okay, Calum is cute, but that’s not something a straight guy should be thinking about, and — Michael’snotstraight, but he’s trying to keep that particular fact on the down-low, so he can’t really speak to it. Still, objectively speaking, Calum is cute, and Calum is talking, and if Michael were the type to get distracted by cute boys talking, he’d be fucked.He blinks. Calum’s watching him.“Sorry?” Michael echoes. “I missed that last part.”
Relationships: Calum Hood & Ashton Irwin, Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin, Michael Clifford & Luke Hemmings, Michael Clifford/Calum Hood
Series: spiderman AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859125
Comments: 26
Kudos: 56





	latest nostalgia, or happily ever after

**Author's Note:**

  * For [expectopatronuz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/expectopatronuz/gifts).



> this fic is for [maggie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/expectopatronuz), who literally inundated me with love for the first installment of this series until i was forced to write this half. however special shoutout also goes to [helen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/softirwin/pseuds/softirwin) for calling the first fic my magnum opus and then complimenting it to death. it's all for you guys like it really is
> 
> also? a special shoutout to fuckin everyone who read the first fic because i genuinely think it's one of the silliest things ive ever written but you all said such?? nice things??? so thank you for that lmao
> 
> if you haven't read [a hero, a liar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24687982) i recommend you do that first or this fic will make absolutely no sense, because this fic happens parallel to the events of that fic
> 
> title from, you guessed it, heroes by all time low
> 
> for what it's worth, in my docs this fic is titled "spidermalum" and yes it is hopefully just as silly and ridiculous as the first half because you guys SEEM TO BE INTO THAT no accounting for taste but anyway here it is without further ado. you all know the drill suspend disbelief when u must

“We need to talk about calling for backup when you need it,” Michael says.

Luke doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. “I didn’t need it! I won.”

“Yeah, _barely,_ ” Michael huffs. “One of these days you’re going to die because you’re too much of a stubborn bitch to admit you need help.”

“I don’t need help,” Luke says, which is a lie. Well, it’s not a lie, necessarily, but it could be truer. Luke is still alive somehow, by force of will or something, but Michael’s seen secondhand some of the stuff he has to fight. He doesn’t know why Luke’s so adamant against asking for backup. Even the police. Not that the NYPD likes Spiderman very much, but better safe than sorry, in Michael’s opinion.

Luke obviously doesn’t care for Michael’s opinion, though. He pulls his books out of his locker and then turns to Michael. “Are you just going to bitch at me? No congratulations? No ‘well done, you’re protecting the city from harm’?”

“Congratulations,” Michael says dryly. “Well done, you’re protecting the city from harm. I’m going to put shoulder pads in your fucking suit.”

Luke shushes him. It’s mostly for show, since Luke is the slowest person ever getting his books, and almost the entire hallway is empty. Anyway, Michael thinks _suit_ is pretty vague. Luke’s the one who just put himself on blast for protecting the city from harm. He’s a shitty secret-keeper, Michael thinks.

“Don’t threaten me with shoulder pads,” Luke complains, and finally, _finally_ hefts his backpack over his shoulder and slams his locker door. “It would ruin the whole look.”

“You know what else would ruin the look?” Michael says. “Death. Dying. You, dying.”

“Are you trying to manifest it?”

Michael punches him in the shoulder. The main benefit of having a best friend with super-healing is that you never have to worry that you’ve punched him too hard.

“I have to get to class,” Luke says, smirking a little. “See you.”

Michael flips him off in lieu of responding, but the bell is going to ring in, like, thirty seconds, and Michael doesn’t have the advantage of accelerated speed, so he takes off down the hall to get to his own class in time.

* * *

Calum’s not cute.

Well, okay, Calum is cute, but that’s not something a straight guy should be thinking about, and — Michael’s _not_ straight, but he’s trying to keep that particular fact on the down-low, so he can’t really speak to it. Still, objectively speaking, Calum is cute, and Calum is talking, and if Michael were the type to get distracted by cute boys talking, he’d be fucked.

He blinks. Calum’s watching him.

“Sorry?” Michael echoes. “I missed that last part.”

“Lab project ideas,” Calum repeats slowly. “We need to brainstorm a few. I had some ideas, but I wondered if you had thought about it.”

Michael’s feeling a little slower than usual today. “I don’t understand,” he says.

Calum raises an eyebrow. “Well, as lab partners, I think it’s best if we work together to design a project.”

 _Lab partners._ Lab partners? Since when? When did that happen?

(Okay, so maybe Michael had gotten a little bit distracted, but in his defense, this class feels beyond him. If only they knew that the only reason Spiderman can shoot webs is because of Michael. Then he’d catch a break.)

“We’re lab partners?” Michael says, stupidly. Calum looks like he’s going to rip his hair out.

“Yeah,” he says impatiently. “And we need to decide what our project is going to be. Any ideas?”

“I’m more of a techie,” Michael says truthfully. “Computer science.”

Calum hums. “That’s fine. We can figure something out that combines computer science with chemistry.”

“Chemistry,” Michael says.

“I’m best at hard sciences,” Calum explains. 

Michael has a hard time believing Calum is bad at anything, but it would be only fair. In addition to having, like, the world’s most (objectively!) gorgeous eyes and complexion, and the kind of gravelly voice that could (objectively!) seduce anyone, it’d be nice for him to be, like, awful at science. But of fucking course he’s a genius.

Michael’s a genius too, but that’s because he doesn’t have the good looks to make up for it. Calum’s just breaking the social contract left and right.

“Okay,” Michael says. “I mean, great. I’ll, uh, think on it and you think on it, and then we can compare notes.”

“Fine,” Calum says. And that feels like that, so Michael puts his headphones in again and ignores the strange look Calum is giving him for it. Michael works best alone, okay? He knows that about himself. And just because his lab partner is weirdly charming, doesn’t mean Michael’s going around making all kinds of exceptions.

* * *

Calum suggests a Spiderman-related project and Michael almost loses his shit right there. Part of him wants to drag Calum over to Luke and demand to know if Luke is just pulling some elaborate prank, but Calum looks sincere, if a little mischievous, and there’s a glint in his eye that Michael can’t refuse.

Besides, if done right this could be a really fucking funny prank on Luke, so Michael agrees to it. He’s not just going to let this opportunity to dig at Luke’s public persona slip through his fingers.

Luke looks suspicious.

“Tell me,” he insists. “I don’t trust you one bit.”

Michael shakes his head, grinning. “You’ll see it when it’s done. Don’t be rude.”

“You’re being rude keeping secrets from me,” Luke whines.

“Oh, you mean like how you kept your entire other identity a secret from _me_ for countless months?”

Luke glares at him. Michael smiles back, innocent as anything. He has the trump card whenever Luke wants to bitch at him about keeping secrets.

“You can’t keep using that line,” Luke says, stealing a fry. “I had a good reason.”

“Doesn’t mean I won’t jump at the chance to shame you at every opportunity,” Michael replies, and steals one of Luke’s fries in retaliation. Since they became friends, Michael’s not sure he’s ever eaten a single fry off his own tray, and neither has Luke, but it’s kind of more fun that way.

“I hate you,” Luke grumbles. Then he stiffens. “Someone’s talking about you.”

“Saying what? Who?” Somehow, Luke’s super-hearing is both his best and worst trait. 

Luke raises an eyebrow, eyes doing a lengthy scan of the caf. His gaze finally stalls, and Michael tries to turn inconspicuously to see who he’s looking at.

It’s Calum. At least Michael is pretty sure it’s Calum; he’s gotten very good at recognizing the back of Calum’s head from sitting behind him for two months in their combined sciences class. Across from him is someone Michael doesn’t recognize, although when Michael turns back Luke looks nervous.

“The kid with the black hair,” Luke says. “Called you weird. And they — _fuck_ , I know that guy. That’s Ashton. I ran into him — fuck. Fuck. They’re talking about me.”

“Voyeurist,” Michael mutters. Luke slaps him.

“This is serious, Mike! They’re talking about my voice. Fuck, what if Ashton recognizes my voice? I didn’t realize he went to this school.”

“Who cares if he heard your voice? You’ve already fucking met.”

“I met him as — you know,” Luke says, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Spidey.” _Oh_.

“Okay, relax,” Michael says. “Did they say anything else about me?” Luke glares at him. “What? I don’t have super-hearing, do I? If you’re going to be the messenger, earn your keep!” When Luke keeps glaring, Michael offers, “I’ll make you a voice modulator if that’ll make you feel better.”

Luke huffs, obviously satisfied. “It will,” he says. “Thank you.” His tongue pokes between his teeth, the face he gets when he’s listening closely (eavesdropping, honestly), and adds, “Black hair guy called you hot. And a video game enthusiast. Wait, that’s your lab partner? That’s Calum?”

Michael nods, and feels bizarrely pleased that Calum thinks he’s hot. “Did he really call me hot?”

“Ask him yourself,” Luke says petulantly. Probably still on edge about the voice thing. It will take, like, ten minutes for Michael to put something together to change Luke’s voice, though, so Michael doesn’t really care if he’s going to be cross about it. Michael can hold a grudge for way longer than Luke, and they both know it.

He keeps munching on Luke’s fries, which are just about the only stomach-able thing in the caf. If the school didn’t offer fries, Michael thinks he’d probably starve.

* * *

If Luke keeps texting Michael while he’s trying to code, Michael’s going to strangle him. Finally Michael shoots Calum an apologetic look and says, “Just give me five minutes, my asshole friend won’t leave me alone,” and steals into the back bedroom to call Luke.

“ _What_ ,” he hisses when the dial tone cuts out.

“I have a stupid idea,” Luke announces, “but I want to know if you think it’s stupid or not.”

“I do,” Michael says. “Bye.”

He hangs up.

A moment later his screen lights up again with Luke’s name.

“ _What._ ”

“You’re such an asshole,” Luke says. “Look, you know how I’m always saying I wish there was a way to prove that Spiderman is gay?”

“Yeah.”

“And how if Spiderman could have a boyfriend that would do it?”

“Mhm.” Michael is very nervous about where this is going, but also kind of amused.

“But that there are no, like, other gay superheroes, so there’s nobody that will do it for me?”

“Luke, I’m trying to work here, can you get to the point?”

“I want to ask if Ashton will be Spiderman’s fake boyfriend,” Luke blurts out.

Michael snorts. “Ashton? The guy you randomly met, like, three times?” And Calum’s best friend, apparently. Small world. 

“We’re kind of friends now,” Luke says defensively. “I mean, he and Spiderman. And like, he’s gay — he told me — or he told Spiderman — and I just, I don’t know. I mean, I’m not going to ask _you_ to do it.”

Michael feels a little bit ashamed for that, and maybe that’s why he relents. “Okay. Fine. Ask him.”

“I just think he — wait, really?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Michael says. “Worst thing that can happen is he gets brutally murdered by your weekly archnemesis or whatever.”

“I mean,” Luke says, “I hope not.”

“Are you patrolling tonight?”

“Yeah, but — I know you’re doing your project, so you don’t have to be on call.”

“Of course I’m on call.” Luke’s a fucking dumbass if he thinks Michael’s going to let him patrol with no backup. They’ve both seen how poorly that can go. “I’m leaving Calum’s in, like, half an hour anyway. So leave me alone.”

“Bye,” Luke chirps, and hangs up before Michael can bitch more. Unfortunate. Bitching at Luke is up there among Michael’s favorite pastimes.

He heads back to the kitchen table, where Calum is doing chemical formulas in the back of his notebook. “What are you even doing?” Michael says. It’s the first time he’s looked at Calum’s handiwork since he arrived an hour and a half ago to work on the project.

“Chemical compounds,” Calum says. “Trying to figure out what the web stuff is made of.”

Michael resists the urge to just announce that Luke is Spiderman right then and there. “Ah,” he says intelligently. “Well. Tell me if you figure it out.”

“What are you working on?” Calum asks. He drops his pencil and stands up, towering over Michael’s laptop.

“Coding,” Michael says. “We can’t all be chemically inclined.”

“That’d be a cool band name,” Calum says, apropos of nothing. “Chemically Inclined.”

Michael shakes his head, hiding a grin. It _would_ be a cool band name, actually, and Michael decides he might as well say it. “It would.”

“So this is all going to become a website?” Calum asks, leaning over Michael’s shoulder to peer closer to the screen. Michael’s heartbeat doubles in pace.

“That’s generally how coding works,” he says coolly.

“It’s beyond me,” Calum admits, genial and totally easygoing. “I’ve never been able to figure out anything more than the basics of coding.”

“It’s really cool,” Michael says. “Can’t recommend being a techie strongly enough.”

Calum grins at him, face too close, and Michael’s cheeks feel exceedingly warm. “Anyway,” he says quickly, “I should probably go. I’ve got, uh, some other stuff to get to. But good start.”

“Good start,” Calum agrees, moving back over to his own notebook. “I’ll keep at this, then.”

“You do that.” He hesitates. “Uh, this might be a rumor, but I heard that Spiderman uses mostly stuff found in a school lab. Maybe methanol?”

Calum looks up at him, inches away from closing the notebook. “Methanol,” he repeats. Michael can see the gears turning. “Okay. Yeah. That would make sense. Thanks.”

Hopefully Luke won’t kill Michael if Calum somehow figures out how to replicate the web fluid.

* * *

Michael doesn’t really listen to Luke’s conversations with random civilians when Luke’s supposed to be on patrol. He much prefers to have Green Day playing quietly in the background while he tinkers. Plus, tonight Michael’s got homework. He feels a compelling desire not to let Calum down on this project, so strong that it’s got him still working on it.

Once Luke promises that he’s home safely, Michael puts all his stuff away and goes to sleep. He’s not about to lose sleep over a project they’ve only just started. And it’s not difficult by any stretch. The only challenge is trying not to crack up in the middle of working on it every time he remembers that he’s essentially designing a program to debunk his own best friend’s secret alter ego.

He doesn’t catch Luke before class the following morning — Luke probably overslept, he does it about once a week, and while he might be able to sweet-talk his way out of detention, Michael’s hair and general reputation pretty much guarantee a detention if he’s ever late, so he really can’t be. Which means he doesn’t see Luke until lunch, and Luke looks like he’s seen a fucking ghost.

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” Michael says conversationally, setting his tray down on the table. “Alright?”

“Ashton’s in my maths class,” Luke says, dimly, like he can’t quite believe it.

“And you only just noticed?”

“He just switched in, dipshit,” Luke says sharply. The next moment he hangs his head. “Sorry. Sorry. I’m just, like, stressed. He’s supposed to be Spiderman’s boyfriend. How can Spiderman spend any time with him at all without him realizing that Spiderman is, you know?” He points to himself.

“You know you don’t have to actually talk to him in your class,” Michael says. 

“I know, but he’s so friendly,” Luke groans. “And _cute._ I want to talk to him. But what if he recognizes my voice?”

“That’s literally the reason for the voice modulator,” Michael says. “Calm down. He’s not going to recognize you. Just don’t say anything to him if you’re that worried about it.”

Luke sighs. “Yeah. I know. I just.”

“I know,” Michael says. Luke just worries. He does it the way he does everything, relentless and persistent and with a strangely upright sense of justice. It’s annoying, sometimes, the way Luke’s moral compass always seems to be calibrated. Michael feels so lost sometimes he doesn’t even think he _has_ a moral compass, just aiming blindly and praying.

“Anyway,” Luke says. “Let’s talk about something else.”

Michael’s one thousand percent sure Luke’s still thinking about it, but whatever. It’s a mercy for both of them to change the subject; Luke will wallow anyway, but at least this way Michael’s not enabling him.

“Okay,” he says. “Well, I got a chain email from my grandma yesterday.”

Luke snorts. “No way.”

“Yeah, I didn’t actually think she knew how to use email, but apparently she was worried enough about the threat of death that she forwarded it to me.”

Luke laughs. “Maybe she was hoping she’d forward it to you and _you_ would die from not forwarding it on. You didn’t forward it on, did you? Because I have a sense for these things —”

Michael swats at him. “Oi!” Luke says, still giggling. “Fuck off, I’m trying to protect you.” 

“My grandma wants _you_ dead,” he threatens.

“Your grandma loves me.” 

“My gran’s never even fucking met you!”

“But if she did, she’d love me,” Luke says assuredly. “I know it. I’m delightful.”

“Pain in the arse, more like,” Michael grumbles, although at least Luke’s smiling. “I hate you so much.”

“Maybe she —” Luke breaks off and lifts his gaze sharply over Michael’s shoulder. Michael sighs. If Luke were a dog, he’d have dead giveaways; his ears practically perk up in real life as it is whenever he hears his name. It’s so stupidly obvious that Michael’s kind of surprised nobody has made the connection, except that nobody really cares about Luke. That’s not a diss; he and Michael exist on the outskirts of the social class at Midtown Tech, and that’s the way they like it.

“Luke,” Michael says. “Hello?”

Luke pulls his eyes back to Michael. “Yeah, sorry,” he says, sounding entirely elsewhere. “You said something?”

“No I didn’t, but now I will,” Michael says. “I hate you. I’m friend-breaking up with you.”

“Fine,” Luke says. He looks a little thrown, but he’s definitely looked worse. This is the part of the super-hearing that is a curse, Michael thinks; Luke hears everything people say about him. 

_Everything._

(Michael is the cleanup crew.)

“You’re just going to let me end it? Just like that?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to end our friendship for years,” Luke says. “I’m sick of you.”

Michael scowls. “I’ll just go be best friends with Calum then.”

Luke barks a laugh. “Oh, good. Be _best friends_ with your lab partner who thinks you’re hot.”

“He was joking about that,” Michael says, although he doesn’t really know, and kind of hopes Calum wasn’t joking. 

“I’m just saying,” Luke says. He’s not really saying anything, but he never is. That’s why Luke is a maths kid. 

* * *

“I don’t think that’s right,” Michael says, eyeing Calum’s formula critically. “The tensile strength wouldn’t be nearly high enough.”

“Well I’m not exactly Spiderman, am I,” Calum says. “It’s not supposed to be exact.” He sounds frustrated, though. 

“Maybe if,” Michael starts, and then decides against continuing. Luke’s web formula is a closely guarded secret, just like his proficiency with chemistry is. “Never mind. I don’t know.”

“You obviously know something,” Calum says. Michael panics for a second before Calum adds, “I mean, you could tell the tensile strength would be too low just from looking.”

“Oh,” Michael says, relieved. “Well, I just knew you’d fuck it up.”

“Hey, fuck off,” Calum says, although he’s got an easy smile. “How’s your thing going?”

Michael twists his laptop around to show Calum the program. “Brilliantly, unlike some scientists I know.”

“Your part is all on the computer, it’s so much fucking easier,” Calum says. “Don’t insult my scientific abilities.”

“Well, be a better scientist and I won’t.”

“You’re mean,” Calum says, although he says it in the fondest way possible. Michael’s heart threatens to burst out of his chest. He swallows down the feeling. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to swallow down feelings regarding Calum lately, but he manages it. 

“I know,” Michael says. “It’s what makes all the ladies love me.”

Calum studies him for a second too long, then leans slowly away from him. It might be Michael’s imagination, but he looks kind of disappointed. “Yeah, I bet.”

Michael’s terrified, because Calum looks like he knows something, and Michael keeps thinking it would be better to tell him, and that’s the scariest thing of all. Because, because — it’s a secret, and secrets are for keeping. Secrets like this one are for guarding and never telling and taking to Michael’s grave, probably.

(That’s unsustainable, and Michael knows it. He was just kind of hoping he could wait a little longer before having to confront his own emotional turmoil head-on. He hadn’t expected to fall for Calum his fucking lab partner.)

“So,” he says, because otherwise the silence will crush him, “this has to be, like, a video, right? You wanted to make a video?”

Calum nods. “Probably best to film the attempt at making the web formula, right? Like, in the interest of scientific exploration.”

“And watching you tank,” Michael adds. 

“Hey,” Calum says. “See if I don’t fill your pillowcase with rejected web formula.”

That’s such a good prank idea that Michael might just have to steal it and use it on Luke. “I’ll hack your computer and tell your mum you watch porn,” Michael volleys. “Don’t threaten me, Hood. I hold the power here.”

Calum rolls his eyes, grinning. “Oh, by the way, I had a funny idea,” he says. “More of a feature on the website than anything, but — I don’t know if you’ve heard that Ashton’s dating Spiderman now.”

Michael does a very severe double-take. Is he supposed to know that? Is _Calum_ supposed to know that? Is Calum supposed to say that familiarly, like he’s got an in with Spiderman?

But then again, if Calum’s best friend is (fake) dating Spiderman, then he would, wouldn’t he? And Calum probably knows that it’s a fake relationship, because Ashton probably told him. But Calum also is probably supposed to perpetuate the lie to anybody who might _not_ know, and there’s no reason Michael, his lab partner, some random kid, should know anything to do with Spiderman.

The cognitive reset kicks in. Michael’s just gotta pretend, is all. A lot.

“Yeah,” he says. “Surprising. I didn’t realize Spiderman was looking to date.”

Calum hums. “Yeah, well, Ashton’s a catch.” Michael feels a spike of envy, an ugly churn in his gut at Calum calling _Ashton_ a catch, and he tamps it down. They’re best fucking mates. Of course Calum would say that. “Anyway, I think it’d be cute to have some kind of tribute to him — or to them — on the page. You know, like a celebration of having a gay superhero.”

“That’s important,” Michael agrees cautiously. “Uh, that’s a fun idea. Sure. Yeah.”

Calum squints at him. “I’m not going to make this weird, but you know I’m not straight, right?”

Michael _hadn’t_ known, but now that he does he feels his heart rate pick up again, which is annoying because he’d _just_ gotten it down. “Cool,” he manages. “I’m, uh. I’m straight. But I obviously support you.”

Calum keeps squinting, and Michael, face burning, looks down at his hands until Calum says, “Okay, well, anyway, I don’t think Ashton will like it, which means it’s a perfect idea.”

Michael presses his lips together and smiles. He thinks he just fucked something up, but he has no idea what. “That’s the best kind of idea,” he allows. “The kind that your best mate will hate you for.”

Calum nods, and everything is kind of normal again, although Michael still feels like he’s blown something, big-time. Michael’s fucking clever, he knows he is, but sometimes he feels like he’s the world’s biggest idiot.

* * *

Luke has been kind of weird for all of lunch, so Michael’s not sure what he was expecting, but it certainly isn’t for Luke to choke on his water and lean across the table to mutter, “They’re talking about you. They’re — Calum says he wants to fuck you.”

Michael’s heart stops. “Fuck you,” he says. “That’s not funny.”

“Mate, do I look joking to you?” Luke says, which, fair enough. For the whole of lunchtime Luke’s mostly looked like he’s in mourning, which is never the best Luke, because it means he’s being very self-deprecating in his head. At least when he’s self-deprecating out loud, Michael can do something to combat it. This way, Michael’s powerless.

But self-deprecating Luke is also not the kind of Luke that makes mean jokes, especially not one as random as this one might be, which means.

Which means what?

“He must be joking,” Michael says.

“He’s dead serious, believe me,” Luke says. “Michael, he knows you like him, and he likes you! He’s literally saying it right now to Ashton, I can hear them. I’m doing you a favor. Using my powers for good.” 

“You already do that by fighting crime,” Michael points out.

“Yeah, and by finding a hot boyfriend for my best friend,” Luke says. “Which is my current mission. And Calum likes you. Look, I’m not saying you have to do anything, I just think you’d be an idiot not to.”

Michael already knows he’s an idiot, thanks very much. “Maybe I like being an idiot,” he says, stealing a handful of fries that he feels he’s earned from Luke’s tray. “Ever think of that?”

Luke rolls his eyes. He’s probably thinking something else, but Michael doesn’t have the energy to ask. He’s very, _very_ caught up in Calum possibly wanting to fuck him, possibly liking him, and possibly knowing that Michael likes him, too.

* * *

Michael is a coward.

He’s been denying it for awhile, but there’s no point anymore. Now that he’s looking for it, the signs are all there that Calum likes him. The casual touches, the teasing banter, the way Calum will drop offhand compliments into conversations — _It’s so cool that you know how to do this_ or _I love the way you dyed your hair_ or, most recently, _your eyes are so pretty_ , which had Michael stuttering out some lame excuse to retreat to his bathroom and take deep breaths to recover — it all points towards Calum fancying him. And Michael wants to return all of it, because Calum deserves that. It’s easy, some of it. Michael can do casual touch. He’s exceptionally good at teasing, and he’s even thrown some of his own compliments into the mix. But as soon as Calum turns those soulful eyes onto him, looking sincere and a little more knowing than Michael would prefer, he freezes up.

It’s not really his fault, and he knows that, but it sure does feel like it. Just because he’s been socially trained to retreat from _boys_ who might be interested in him, doesn’t mean he should still be fucking doing it at seventeen. Calum is sweet and charming and bright as fuck and he lights up every room he enters, and Michael wants to kiss him more than he’s wanted anything in his life, but whenever the room quiets enough for either of them to make a move, Michael chokes.

“Are you hungry?” is the latest of Michael’s botched attempts to cut the tension in the air. “I’m kind of hungry.”

Calum stares at him for another second. “I could eat,” he finally says. _Thank fucking God_ , Michael thinks. This is the most obvious exit strategy ever, and Calum is giving him the out. Michael knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he’s grateful all the same.

He goes to the kitchen and retrieves a bag of chips from the pantry, and then, after some internal debate, some salsa as well. It’s messy, and Michael tends to try and avoid eating messy snacks while his laptop is anywhere in the vicinity, but whatever. Chips are better with salsa, and Michael wants the comfort.

By the time he returns to the living room, Calum is on his phone, and Michael feels secure in the knowledge that the moment has passed. But then he feels guilty, and horrible, and ashamed, and all he can do is try his best to smile at Calum when Calum turns to look at him.

He’s going to crack soon, for sure, but maybe that’s for the best. At this point, Michael’s behavior is just humiliating.

* * *

“I talked to Ashton,” Luke says nervously when he sits down for lunch.

Michael smirks. “I should hope so, seeing as he’s your boyfriend.” 

Luke aims a kick at him under the table. “As _myself_ , in maths,” he says. “And he seemed really pleased.”

“Probably because he likes you,” Michael says bluntly. “Maybe you should go after him so that one of us will be getting some action.” 

“It’s your own fault that you’re not,” Luke says, which is true, but still kind of harsh. 

“Well, it’s _your_ own fault for alienating Ashton this whole time when you could’ve been wooing him.”

“That was your idea!”

“It was a joint idea.”

“Wait, shut up.” Luke’s face does the ears-perking-up thing. “He’s talking about me.”

“You’re so self-absorbed,” Michael says. He takes advantage of the opportunity to nick many fries from Luke’s tray, shoveling them in his mouth with reckless abandon. They’re probably made with cocaine, and he’s probably going to take ten years off his life by eating them, but at this point it’s Michael’s main source of comfort. Well, this and Final Fantasy.

Luke sits still long enough that Michael feels it necessary to check that he’s still alive. “Earth to Luke,” he says, waving a hand in front of Luke’s face. Luke swats at his arms. 

“Stop it,” he whispers. His expression is slowly transforming to some weird mixture of glee and shame. Finally he refocuses on Michael. “Well. The good news is that Ashton fancies me. And the bad news is that he also fancies Spiderman.”

Michael wolf whistles. “Holy shit, you somehow managed to seduce the same guy as two different people. Way to go.”

“The other bad news is that he doesn’t think I actually like him,” Luke says, apparently ignoring him. “Which I guess is my fault for not speaking to him in maths.”

“I’d say.”

“Well,” Luke says. “Fuck.”

“Ah, you’ll figure it out,” Michael says. “It’s just a boy. Just feel safe in the knowledge that if you need to judo-flip him, you absolutely can.”

Luke doesn’t look very reassured, but Michael is pretty successfully entertained at the mental image of Luke judo-flipping Ashton. He resolutely does not think about Calum for the rest of lunch.

* * *

Luke is preemptively breaking up with Ashton as Spiderman, which leaves Michael the evening free to go to Calum’s and work on the project. It’s coming along nicely; the pride theme on the website looks pretty sleek, if Michael does say so himself. Which he doesn’t have to, because Calum does, with an impressed nod.

“This is great,” he says. “It looks amazing. You did a great job, Mikey.”

“Thanks,” Michael says, heart twisting furiously at the nickname. “You too, other than the fact that I was right about the tensile strength.”

“Well, I’m using that formula for the project anyway.” Calum shrugs. “Not like she’s going to dock points for failing to replicate actual Spiderman’s web formula. Plus we’ve got the whole page on DNA changes.”

Calum has done his research. It’s so obvious in his work, and it charms Michael, silly as that sounds. He loves the way Calum has thrown himself so passionately into this project, loves watching his thoughts come to life in a chemical formula on paper and then a beaker in the kitchen. Calum’s captivating. Michael’s captivated.

Michael is captivated right now.

The way the light comes in through Calum’s bedroom window means Calum’s whole left side is illuminated, throwing half of him into stark relief. Michael knows he should stop staring, but he can’t, and doesn’t want to, and Calum looks so pretty right now that Michael could cry.

He wants to kiss Calum like he needs to breathe. And now Calum’s looking straight back at him, but he’s still sitting there, as if he’s waiting.

 _Fuck it,_ Michael thinks — because Calum knows, and Michael won’t get much more security than this, and — _fuck it_ , basically, is all that he can think.

He leans forward before he can stop himself and kisses Calum.

Calum responds so instinctively that Michael wonders if he’s just been waiting for Michael to make a move, and Michael feels a bubble of gratitude in his chest. Here Michael’s been, an absolute idiot about this whole thing, and Calum has just been endlessly patient, and somehow is still kissing Michael back like it’s what he’s been waiting to do.

Michael pulls back, and before he can even say anything — not that he’d know what the fuck to say — Calum says, “I’ve been waiting for you to do that.”

Michael blushes down to his toes. “Really.”

“Well, you were being really cagey, so I didn’t want to push you,” Calum says. “But yeah. I’m glad you did it.”

“It’s not,” Michael begins, but there’s really no good way to finish that sentence.

“Look, we don’t have to talk about it,” Calum says. “Like, I get it, you need to sort yourself out, that’s fine. I just — just admit that it means something. Because to me it does.”

“It means something,” Michael confirms, feeling nervous and shaky and scared and excited and happy. “Yeah, yes, I like you. I’m sorry — I know I’ve been weird, and —”

“Mike,” Calum repeats. “You don’t have to say anything about it, okay? I mean it that we don’t have to talk about it until you’re ready.”

Michael feels so thankful that he doesn’t really have the words. He wants to kiss Calum again, but he’s not sure if that’s what Calum wants, and this is so fucking fragile.

“You’re welcome to kiss me whenever you want, though,” Calum says, as if reading his mind. “And if you don’t, I probably will, fair warning.”

“Okay,” Michael says, smiling, and then he does kiss Calum again, needier and hungrier and a whole lot happier. 

They don’t get a lot of work done on the project, but — well. There will be other days.

* * *

Despite the promise that they don’t have to talk about it, Michael finds himself wanting to talk about it. He wants it to be a real thing, and he wants to be _proud_ that he likes Calum, and not feel this dark, twisted horror at the concept. It’s not a quick solve — years of being in the closet, and stepping out briefly to come out to Luke before hiding in it again don’t get cured by one cute guy. 

Except…actually, they kind of do.

Calum is just so, so sweet, is the thing. He pretends to be an asshole, but when it counts, Calum is so fucking earnest that Michael feels undeserving. But Calum swears up and down that he fancies Michael, and Michael would say it’s pretty damn evident he feels the same, if the enthusiasm with which they make out is any indicator at all. And Michael realizes he wants this to be something that lasts, and it can’t last until they talk about it. There’s nothing _to_ last unless Michael fucking talks about it.

So when Calum opens the door, before Michael loses his nerve, he says in a rush, “We should talk.” And then, horrified at his own phrasing: “In a good way! Like, I’m ready. To talk about it.”

Calum’s face splits into a wide grin. “Okay,” he says. “Come in. Let’s talk.”

For a few moments after they sit down, Michael feels stuck, unsure where to start or what's even relevant to mention. But then Calum takes his hand and gives him a reassuring smile, promises that he's listening whenever Michael's ready, and suddenly it's all spilling out of Michael. He tells Calum he likes guys, and specifically likes Calum, and if it matters to Calum he can come out but it’s hard, because for so many years he — 

“Mike, breathe,” Calum says. Michael does. “Don’t do anything for me, alright? I’m with you anyway. Already fucking like you, whether you tell one person or a thousand. I’ll go whatever pace you want.”

Michael says, “I want to be your boyfriend. I want us to be boyfriends. I want. That.”

“Okay,” Calum says. He looks happy. “I want that. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Michael says again, a touch fervently. He bites his lip. “Not just in secret, you know. Like. I’m not — I don’t want —” He shakes his head. “I’m trying to not be scared.”

“You’re doing a good job,” Calum says gently.

“I just mean I don’t want to hide from the kids at school,” Michael says. “I don’t care what they say. Do you?”

“Never have,” Calum says. “But they don’t really care about me, anyway. Ash and I kind of fly under the radar.”

“Yeah, same with me and Luke,” Michael says, relieved. “Nobody will care if we’re, like. Boyfriends in public.”

“I shouldn't think so.”

“Okay,” Michael says. “Good. Not that I’d care if — but good.”

“Sounds good to me,” Calum says. 

“I think we should make out,” Michael says. Calum laughs and pulls him in for another kiss.

Michael could _die_ , but if he had to pick a way to go, this would be at the top of the list. _Kissed to death by Calum Hood._

* * *

It’s hard not to feel like there’s a neon sign above his head reading “LOOK AT MICHAEL! HE’S HOLDING HANDS WITH A BOY!” as he and Calum walk into the caf the following day for lunch, but Michael does his best. He keeps a tight grip on Calum’s hand and heads for his table.

“No,” Calum says, halting in the middle of the room. “Let’s sit at mine.”

“I want to sit at mine,” Michael says, childishly. “It’s further away from everyone.”

“Yeah, but mine’s closer to the food,” Calum says. “Also, I guarantee you Ash will sit down at our table whether or not we’re sitting there, because his brain’s on autopilot ninety percent of the time, so I don’t want that to be awkward.”

“Calum,” Michael whines, but allows himself to be pulled over to Calum and Ashton’s table towards the center of the caf. It doesn’t seem to matter, though; nobody’s watching them, and they continue to evade stares as they sit. 

Michael climbs over the table to sit across from Calum without having to let go of his hand, and Calum rolls his eyes and says, “Sap,” as fondly as he can.

“Hey,” Luke says, appearing out of thin air.

“Jesus Mary and Joseph,” Calum says. “You fucking scared me.”

“Sorry,” Luke says hesitantly. “I, uh, walk light. Um, Calum, right? Michael’s mentioned you a lot.” He registers the linked hands and repeats, “A _lot._ ”

“Good,” Calum says, as Michael blushes. “Yeah, I’m Calum. You’re Luke?”

Luke nods. “Nice to meet you,” he says. “Finally. I was wondering if I’d ever get to.”

“Can’t hide me away for too long,” Calum says, with that easy smile of his. “For the record, it’s nice to meet you too. I also wondered.”

“Worlds colliding, blah blah blah,” Michael says. “Luke, sit down, would you?”

Luke sits, and Calum glances around the caf. “Dunno where Ashton is,” he says. Luke’s hand grips Michael’s knee under the table, and Michael just barely resists the urge to jump at it. He pokes at Luke’s thigh in a gesture that he hopes conveys _grow a pair_ and Luke side-eyes him, which probably means _you could have warned me that Ashton would be here_. Michael doesn’t know why Luke’s surprised. Ashton and Calum are about as inseparable as Luke and Michael, according to what Calum has told him. 

“Oh,” Calum says, directing his gaze to the lunch line. “He’s just there.”

Sure enough, a minute later Ashton is walking from the lunch line to their table.

“Hi,” he says as he sits. Michael watches his gaze flicker to their hands, still intertwined on the tabletop.

“Hi,” Luke says first.

“Ash, this is Michael,” Calum says. He glances at Michael, as if to say, _can I?_ and Michael silently replies _may as well_ , and Calum’s lips quirk in a half-smile, and he says, “He’s my boyfriend, unfortunately.”

And Michael should feel offended but all he can think is that he’s never felt more secure about a decision in his lifetime.

* * *

“You know,” Calum says lazily, “we should probably take the pride page off the website.”

“What? Why?”

It’s a ridiculously beautiful Tuesday, but Michael chronically despises the outdoors, so they’ve compromised and are sitting in front of the window in Calum's room, rays of sunlight making themselves comfortable across the floor and everything they touch. That includes Calum, whose head is in Michael’s lap as Michael reads _1984_ for English. Calum should be reading too, but by the way his book has been discarded across the floor, he caved awhile ago.

“Because Ashton’s dating Luke now,” Calum says slowly. “Not Spiderman.”

It’s on the tip of Michael’s tongue — _they’re the same person, you idiot_ — when he remembers. “Oh.” 

Calum doesn’t know. Out of the four of them, Calum is the only one out of the loop. Michael’s almost surprised that Ashton hasn’t told Calum yet. Or maybe he has, and Calum just thinks that _Michael_ doesn’t know, which would be stupid, because Michael is Luke’s best friend. Looking down at Calum’s face, though, Michael is pretty sure it’s the former.

Calum doesn’t know.

“We can change the page, I mean,” Calum clarifies. “Like, take off the part about Ash, but leave the pride stuff.”

Michael swallows. “Yeah. Good idea.” How can Calum not know? Should Michael tell him? No, not without asking Luke first. But Luke will surely be in favor of telling Calum, because at this point they’re a bit of a foursome and it would just be rude not to.

Michael wonders how best to break it to Calum when another thought strikes him — he shouldn’t be the one to do it. _Ashton_ should tell him. Calum’s a lot more likely to be upset at Ashton if he hears it through Michael than if he gets it straight from his best friend. Hopefully this doesn’t affect their friendship. Hopefully it doesn’t affect Michael and Calum’s relationship. Communication is the cornerstone to any good relationship, Michael’s pretty sure he’s heard, and already this one has a secret.

But it should be Ashton. Ashton should be the one to tell Calum. Ashton will know how to break the news better, anyway, since he’s known Calum for longer.

Michael steels his resolve. He’s kept it under wraps since he’s known Calum; another couple of days can’t hurt, while he figures out how to tell Ashton to tell Calum.

“We’d better get full fucking marks for this project,” Calum says, grinning up at Michael, oblivious to the war going on inside his head.

Michael can’t help but return the look; Calum’s smile is infectious like that. “We’ll probably lose points since you couldn’t get the right formula for the webs.”

“Hey, fuck you! Do you know how tirelessly I labored over that?”

“Obviously not tirelessly enough.”

Calum reaches for his book and throws it backhanded at Michael, who lifts his own book as a shield. “Terrible boyfriend. Worst boyfriend of all time. Support my scientific endeavors, you piece of shit.”

“I’m not supporting something that’s going to make me lose points in class.”

Calum rolls his eyes. “Right, sorry. Forgot how much of a scholar you are.”

“I am!” Michael holds his book over Calum’s face. “See? Reading for school. Unlike _someone_ I know.”

“Ah, it’s boring,” Calum says, with a dismissive handwave. “I can’t believe you’re making us stay inside. Michael. Look at the _sky._ It’s literally the most beautiful day on Earth and we are indoors.”

“You’re so annoyingly outdoorsy.”

“ _You’re_ just a techie vampire who will combust under sunlight.”

“Got me there.”

“No,” Calum says, insistently poking at Michael’s thigh. “Come outside with me.”

“Or,” Michael says, “we could stay _inside_ and make out.”

“ _Or_ , we could go _outside_ and make out.”

There’s no way Michael’s reached that level of comfort yet, but Calum’s obviously joking, so he doesn’t say so. Eventually Calum heaves a long-suffering sigh and says, “Okay. You win this one, Cliffo. But I’ll be back with renewed energy.”

“I’m sure,” Michael says, setting his book aside as Calum shuffles into a sitting position.

“I’m gonna bring the heat,” Calum warns.

“I’m counting on it,” Michael says, grinning and chuckling until Calum kisses him quiet. The sunlight streams in through the windows, gentle warmth blanketing the two of them, and it’s a beautiful fucking day in Queens.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~will we ever truly learn what michael and calum's lab project is............hmmm~~
> 
> THANKS FOR STICKIN WITH ME you can come hang on tumblr [@clumsyclifford](http://clumsyclifford.tumblr.com/) tell me what u thought or just leave a cheeky comment OR dont tell me anything and just sit in AWKWARD SILENCE ok thats all back to fic embargo until hello hello is done GOODBYE


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